


Nyse the Necromancer

by Bluesketch



Category: Original Work
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe - Middle Earth Setting, Cults, Dark Magic, Fantasy, Ghosts, Inquisition, Lich, Magic, Middle Ages, Misunderstood MC, Necromancy, Other, Paladins, The Necronomicon, Undead
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2020-01-25 20:31:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18582058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluesketch/pseuds/Bluesketch
Summary: The story of a simple necromancer on a personal quest for more knowledge of his craft. He only wants to gather tomes, grimoires, scrolls, or artifacts that will bring him closer to finding the treasure all necromancers seek: the Necrnomicon. However, forces of light and dark have taken notice of the traveling lich. Those who serve the light will not suffer his existance and those who lurk in the dark want him gone to keep their carefully laid out plans intact. Nyse the Necromancer will face any odds in his path for the book of the Arch Lich by leaving a trail of bodies or sparing those who test his magic.





	1. The Lich Comes

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! My name is Blue and this is my first published work that I'd like to keep going with. I really like the idea of magic and what can be done with it in stories or in a general sense. This idea honestly came to me in a dream and then I fleshed it out the same day in some kind of rush of words I typed out in a discord chat. But, I am planning on working on it more and will try my best to keep a good schedule! Again, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy the story of Nyse the Necromancer :)

Necromancy was a magic many would view as very taboo. Numerous nations, cultures, and religions outlawing or forbidding it’s practice for the ‘evil’ it brought, saying that it was rooted in a sort of sin or a corruption of nature despite those preaching not knowing the intent of nature’s plans. Many people, cults, or even government officials have tried their hands at the dark art but have rarely had that ability to do more than simple resurrections or communing with the dead. However, there were cults across the underbelly of the world that lurked in the shadows and in plain sight. Those cults have collected knowledge from necromancers long past or at least thought to have been, using old tomes written on either skin or aged paper to discover spells and rituals to gain power over both the living and the dead. Many generals using the unholy magic to rise their fallen soldiers to fight yet again, but others within the multiple cults were only there for more personal reasons. 

 

However, necromancy wasn’t all about summoning legions of the undead or conjuring spirits from beyond the veil. Many families have lost loved ones from war, famine, pestilence, or time and have had many regrets to resolve among many other reasons one might have to rise a dead family member from the grave. Speaking to spirits for others for knowledge has been common but has recently been removed from under the abilities of necromancy and to simple mediums. 

 

Religious organizations have been the main opposition for those wishing to seek out the darker magics, being ever vigilant and inquisitive in their cause to bring light to the darkest corners of the world. The largest one and most powerful one, The Order of the Torch, has held dominion over the faith, economy, military, and culture across the world except in the most remote regions outside of their holy borders. The capitol, Beacon, was what you would expect a holy capitol to look like: Spires that touch the clouds, walls to protect the faithful and keep out the infidels, mass prayers and of course massive bells tolling throughout the day. The hierarchy was layered and at the top resigned the Flame Bearer. The Flame Bearer directs all of his holy empire but has fervorous generals to carry out their crusades, inquisitors to root out evil in the darkness, missionaries to spread their light across the lands unclaimed by the righteous, and the list goes on all the way down to simple peasants.

 

The land grows brighter the more the holy empire grows, bringing it’s light to those unsaved souls dwelling in the darkness or by burning them for their sins against their beliefs. The Cults of the Damned have gathered and talked to try and find ways of fighting or infiltrating the Order of the Torch’s upper echelon but have found it impossible to impregnate such a bulwark of faith and self righteousness. They have scrambled to find the strongest spells and hexes, the most vile of incantations, and the most haunting hexes they could find but every attempt was thwarted by inquisitors or the failure of every dark ritual. Cult leaders feared the Church but feared their leaders more: The Liches.

 

Liches were powerful undead that ruled the cults and other lesser night beings. Having ancient knowledge and being the only few to fully be able to read the old grimoires and texts that regular cultists could never hope to understand. They ruled with frozen iron fists and didn’t tolerate any sort of failure from their underlings as each cult master that failed was easily replaced by one who worked twice as hard lest they be turned into another mindless servent. However, Liches weren’t the true leaders of those lurking in the dark. They served a council of higher beings that have been around since the Arch Lich himself, Hudsen Licter, walked the lands and almost brought the world to unlife. Hudsen Licter had written the necronomicon and sealed it away in his tomb but kept that hidden from all even the Archangels that had killed him centuries ago. The Arch Lich's tomb has been constantly searched for by the council like a hungry child looking for scraps, an unending hunger for the power one book bound in angels flesh contained. The search was getting closer to being finished but the Council of Elder Liches had another enemy that threatened their plans. A lone Elder Lich. The lone lich was never brought into the folds of the Unholy council in the Citadel of the Necropolis but has seemed to get in the way of every plan the council had. The Elder lich’s second enemy was named Nyse.

 

-x-

 

“Help! Help! Somebody call the Paladins! The undead are coming!!”

The town of Bonfire had its peace shattered as the wards protecting the edges of its borders were destroyed as easily as breathing, sending the local priests into panic. The townsfolk caught wind from a farmer running back to the town’s center screaming bloody murder about a horde of undead heading their way. Others laughed at him and called the farmer mad, claiming that the wards of the Order will protect them but he quickly denied that and told the townsfolk that they were broken as if they were never there. Panic quickly spread and the quiet town was now roaring with madness and the bell towers were ringing to signaling for help. A distant garrison heard the 6 bells and would start marching but little did they know of the true foe they would go up against.

 

The undead numbered in the hundreds as they trampled fences and stone walls, the earth beneath them and crops withering with every step. Skeletons, ghouls, and zombies all shambled forward onto the stone roads as they passed empty farms except for the livestock that would meet the same fate as the crops behind the horde. The air was chilling by the minute as if it were the dead of winter as the undead came into sight from the main gates. Archers with blessed arrows not hesitating to let them loose into the crowd and managing to drop quite a few of the unholy attackers. However, for every minion that fell two more would crawl from nearby graves and joined the ranks. 

 

The thundering sounds of multiple hooves and marching feet could be heard as the paladins arrived just as the fighting had began and threw themselves head first into the mass of rotted bodies. Their two handed hammers smiting and pummeling decayed flesh with the roars of righteous fury and the yelling of battle prayers. The archers a top the walls didn’t stop firing and after minutes of fighting it looked as if the large group of undead were just a random roving band lead by a greater ghoul. That sadly wasn’t the case as the paladin commander felt the air turn crisp and saw that the bowmen were choking and clawing at their necks before quickly dying, their bodies falling off the wall. This was the sign of a lich. The commander quickly rallied his men into a tight formation and started chanting prayers of protection to keep the aura of death at bay, letting his faith power him and his allies before the lich came into view.

 

The creature was taller than man and had a cloak that made it look like a reaper. Holding a staff with the skull of some horned beast with glowing red eyes that burned with hatred for the one wielding such a weapon. No sound could be heard from the approaching lich except for small trinkets it carried on its person beneath the robe and on the staff. But the closer unholy leader got the aura became stronger and would start to affect even the paladins in their fully blessed plate armour. The Lich stopped a few feet before the holy warriors in tight formation and stared them down, its gaze piercing their souls despite its face not being visible. Then it spoke:

 

“Those who do not wish to die for a meaningless cause leave now. Your feeble faith may yet be needed for another day but if you stay your deaths will be in vain and will only strengthen my army. There is no shame in retreating from a more powerful foe. I will give you but one chance to keep your short lifes before I slaughter you” said the lich. Its voice like chilled daggers against the paladin’s souls, their spines chilled fully by the fear alone from an enemy whose face they haven’t even seen. 

 

None of the paladins answered the lich and silence filled the air for a good three minutes before a deep and long sigh came from the cloaked undead. He then pulled back his hood to reveal rather human looking features, something very uncommon amongst liches and more so among elder ones. His eyes glowed a low green colour but the weight of them could still be felt even if they weren’t looking directly at someone. The hair on the lich was rather long and went past his shoulders that was as black as night. With a roll of his shoulders, the lich would start to slowly walk forward towards the grouped paladins reading some sort of spell as the skull at the top of the lich’s staff glowed a sickly deep green. 

 

A sudden paladin stepped forward towards the approaching necromancer, barely able to stand from fear and their life slowly being drained. They were visibly shaking but had a courage unlike their brothers in arms as the lone warrior would be face to face with a bringer of death. No words were spoken. The only noise was the slight breeze, huffing of the other paladins, and the beating heart of the bravest paladin. However, the armour clad soldier would buckle and fall to their knees before the lich but never broke eye contact. Minutes passed before the fallen crusader finally managed to speak, choking out the words between gasps for air:

“I-...will not g...give up, a-abomination”

 

The lich didn’t respond right away to the dying man before him. The only response being the sickly green spell dimming down. After a while, the lich put their hand on the paladin’s shoulder and sighed, patting the shoulder plating before walking past him. 

 

“I’m only here for the scrolls kept in the temple. Not really in the mood to kill off an entire town just because. So if you all could please move aside and not attack me that would be greatly appreciated.” Said the lich rather calmly. Not a trace of usual arrogance or superiority that others were known for as other liches saw themselves above humans, regarding them as lesser beings not worth their time.

 

All the golden plated warriors were speechless! Not from trying to stay conscious but from the rather human attitude their sworn enemy seemed to have. They all expected to either die or stand over the corpse of a powerful heretic. The paladins looked to their commander who stood silent before walking off to the side, motioning for the others to follow suit. With the defenders out of the lich’s way he went past and gave them a smile before opening the gates and making his way to the temple. 

 

The temple wasn’t grand or large but a structure of noticeable size with careful and detailed craftsmanship for every stone stacked in the archangels glory. It was fully white and made of polished marble with gold used for prayers inscribed on the steps before the large double doors that would be opened with a loud creak. The townsfolk inside were huddled together in prayer before the priests but the crowd fell silent as they looked with horror at who entered their place of worship. 

 

“Begone, creature of the undead! You shall fall before the wrath of the archangels, smited by the holy, and banished to the darkness below for all eternity!” Shouted the town’s high priest. 

 

Hushed whispers and silent prayers were all that filled the holy place along with the steps from the approaching lich. The unholy intruder ignored the priest entirely as if he had never spoken at all. As the lich grew closer to the scared civilians they tried to get far from him by either climbing over one another or running to the walls. Others were frozen in place by pure terror, unable to try and get farther from the tall necromancer. However, the lich didn’t pay those scrambling for distance any mind either. 

 

With every step came more and more shouts from the high priest but nothing would was followed up by the idle threats. Not until one of the regular priests was ordered to attack and a sudden beam of holy energy struck the lich in the chest, making him stop and look at the mark on his robe. The room fell more silent than a crypt as everyone inside looked at the intruder and noticed that it did something to stop his approach. Silence lasted for a brief moment until the high priest erupted with laughter and ordered the same priests to attack again. Another blast of holy energy struck the lich and a flash of light filled the room as it made contact with undead flesh, smelling of burnt and decayed meat despite the lich looking like a ‘normal’ human.

 

“You see, lich? We have the power of the archangels and their favor to smite your wicked kind! Leave now or suffer our holy wrath! Michael and Yolhden, keep attacking!” shouted the High priest and the two he called out would try to start praying to continue their assault. Sadly Michael and Yolhden wouldn’t finish their prayers as the lich, with a roll of his eyes and quick wave of his hand, made the two start to gasp and choke with invisible force! The wind was being taken from their lungs and they would quickly be gripping at their necks with teary eyes until they stopped clawing and fell to the ground lifeless. This made the high priest roar in righteous rage at the sight of his right and left hands struggling to breathe, making him grab a bottle, filled with a light blue liquid, from his robe to throw at the lich. It shattered and drenched the undead mage but he felt something was..off. His limbs felt a little weak and the fragrance made him see double. Holy water. It was common for use against enemies of the light, but the holy water was much more potent than the average batch. The light blue hue to it had specially grown herbs that have been grown in the capitol’s most holy garden and given to every high priest as a last resort if it came down to them to defend their flock. This stronger type of holy water was instructed to only be used if the regular spells had little or no effect on an enemy of the faith. The high priest had prayed to never use it but some prayers go unanswered.

 

With the Lich trying to fix his vision, the high priest would unfold a scroll onto the altar and began quickly reciting a spell passed down from warrior angels that would have effectively sealed and wounded the unholy caster. That is that would have happened if his enemy were a normal lich. The high priest had gotten louder as he neared the end of the holy spell, hoping-no- praying that it would work and return peace and order to his panicked town. But, that was sadly not the case as the scroll he was about to finish would suddenly be engulfed in blue flames! The high priest held his tongue to not swear but howled in pain as his hands were burned by the sudden, intense heat. His gaze went from the charred scroll to the middle of the temple main floor and felt his heart sink into his feet at the sight of the lich walking forward. 

 

“Back...get back! Don’t come any closer, monster, I-I-I’m warning you I have more up my sleeve! Do not tempt me or I will bring the wrath of the angels upon you-”, was all the high priest managed to say before he suddenly stopped. His face was painted with confusion as no words left his lips despite him trying to form them. It were as if they were stuck in his throat! As if someone was stopping them by force..

 

“I am a patient man, human, but that patience is not infinite. I wished not to do this but you attacked me and have forced my hand. If only you were as smart as the paladins at the gate to just let me take what I wanted and leave maybe you wouldn’t be the paint this boring palace needs”, said the lich as he was now face to face with the silent but frightened holy man. The lich’s hand quickly shot forward and grabbed the high priest’s face, not needing to loudly read his spells to make them work. For the unlucky preacher, his life flashed before his eyes as he knew these were his final moments. He offered a quick prayer as the flash of memories passed him by before his memories painted walls of the temple. 

 

The lich wiped his hand on the robes of the fresh corpse that was the reigning authority of the town and turned to face the crowd. They were as quiet as the dead, not making a noise in fear of being the next bucket of crimson to be dumped on the white of the temple. The lich let his sweeping gaze weigh against all who stared at him before lifting the altar from the ground to reveal hole underneath. Inside the hole was a chest that contained what the lich was here for all along: knowledge. He quickly broke it open and withdrew two pale scrolls and slid them into a pack hidden under his robes. After putting the altar back, the lich would start to make his way out of the temple but stopped at the still opened double doors: “I’ve come for what I wanted and won’t take any more lives. Had you all not been paralyzed by fear you would have met the same fate as your shepard. Bravado will only get you killed when facing against your betters. My name is Nyse, mortals, be grateful I showed mercy to your pitifully short and dull lives.”, was all the lich said before leaving the temple and wandered the streets of the town. He had admittedly gotten lost for a short while before finding the other exit and continued down the road. As the lich walked, he pulled out what looked to be a compass except it had a large eye in the center. It stared back at the necromancer before he whispered something in an ancient language to it, making the eye look around rapidly before looking north-west. Sticking the odd device back into his bag, the lich continued on his quest, leaving the town behind with their lives but a brewing hatred for the one called Nyse.


	2. Eyes of the Council

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nyse continues his quest for knowledge while the Holy Order of the Torch begins their hunt for the lone necromancer. However, those who serve the light are not the only ones after Nyse. Those in the service of darker forces have carefully laid their eyes on the lich who holds no allegiance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit shorter than the first but I hope that won't deter you from enjoying this one! I kept the story going and added a bit of little side quest but was still on Nyse's main quest. Wanna thank my bestie again for doing a beta for this and being a continuous source of confidence as well as a few others uwu. Enjoy!!

Word spread of the attack on the town of Bonfire quickly through channels of gossip and town criers. Only seven lives had been lost with the most important being High Priest Jephor while the other six were local militia men archers. The local garrison of paladins were all tried and found guilty of heresy for standing aside and allowing the lich to enter the town, kill High Priest Jephor, and leave with the scrolls of Bjor. All twelve paladins were stripped of rank, titles, honor, and hung in public execution. However, the news had reached Beacon and was deemed not important enough to bother the Torch Bearer with and instead was handed down the line. The task of gathering information about the necromancer that launched the attack was given to an inquisitor by the name of Lydia Bright.

 

A bishop had entered the Inquisitors headquarters in Beacon to deliver the orders personally to Lydia, having caused quite the stir in the organization as personally given orders were rare. Even more so when a bishop, who was only three tiers down from his holiness the Torch Bearer, delivered the mission. The bishop and Inquisitor Bright entered a private room where she knelt to him but he quickly bid her to rise as he didn’t have much time with formalities.

 

“These orders have been signed by myself and Bishop Harold III. You have been tasked with finding out who attacked the border town of Bonfire, where they are headed, and assess how much of a threat they are. Eye witness accounts say it was a single lich who attacked and stole the scrolls of Bjor. I’m sure you have heard of the heresy that gripped the paladins in charge of protecting the town, yes?” Bishop Dyph asked, waiting as Lydia read over the report and then her mission details. 

 

“By the Archangels”, Lydia breathed, “A single lich did this? This cannot be! There must be a mistake, Bishop Dyph, no lone lich could have done this with just a horde of undead! Not to mention there was no hidden cultists helping in the background.” Lydia continued but was cut off from further speaking by a raised hand from Dyph. She nodded to him but kept the questions in her mind for a later time. 

 

Bishop Dyph walked about the room slowly and looked out a window onto the holy city with a soft sigh. “I, and many others, fear that dark times are slowly approaching, Inquisitor. Your fellow brothers and sisters are working tirelessly to search for what lurks in the shadows and those who serve their hidden masters within them. However, we among the upper echelons of the faith are sensing something more...sinister at work. Work quickly but be thorough in your investigation. I’m sure I don’t have to warn you of the dangers you might meet.” Dyph says with his back still to Lydia. He would turn to look into her eyes and walked past, stopping at the door for a final word. 

“Always ask questions. Even if they put you in danger of the unholy or at the blade of the holy.” that was the last thing he said before leaving to his important duties. 

 

Lydia took a seat and looked down at the documents again but still had a hard time believing what was reading over again. She was trying to soak up every detail and make sense of an event so unusual for the undead. There would usually be a bloodbath or no bodies to find as they would have been killed then resurrected for a lich’s personal fighting force. But only minor casualties except for the heretics. Still, Lydia wouldn’t let the confusing details stop or prevent her from doing her duty. The oath she took bound her to see it through.

 

-x-

 

It had been three days since the attack on the town of Bonfire and Lydia was already out in the field searching for answers and clues. However, Nyse was already long gone by now towards another step of his long quest. He took out his eye compass again to see if he was still going the right way and tucked the item away after confirming the direction. The pupil was very wide the last time he checked the trinket and knew that whatever he was seeking wouldn’t be far. Nyse’s patience would have been rewarded with the ruins of a small castle on a large hill overlooking a wide stretch of dead land. The grass was brown and dry, crunching beneath the boots of the lone lich. The sky seemed darker and had more clouds the closer Nyse got to the ruins but pressed on despite that. After climbing up a small amount of steps, he walked through where two large doors would have been and strolled through the dark insides of the castle. 

 

Nyse didn’t need light to find his way as he could see perfectly in the dark as if it were mid day. The only noise within the stone corpse, that once was a castle, was the staff touching the ground with every other step, water dripping onto puddles from the dew of past rain, and the lich’s heeled shoes echoing throughout the empty rooms. Nothing could be heard, smelled, or sensed the deeper in he went. Flights of stairs leading him into more and more rooms but he had a feeling crawl up his long dead spine as if something were amiss somewhere deeper in. Nyse shook off the feeling and looked at the compass eye and kept it out, looking at the expanding pupil to navigate where hidden lore would be.

 

The depths of the castle were colder than expected but the cold never bothered a lich. The torches along the walls have long since been lit, being starved of light and warmth for any number of years and would stay hungry. The compass eye was now full open and like a black ball within the compass, but Nyse couldn’t see any container or bookshelf that would contain a scroll or grimoire of some kind. Then he got thinking and checked along the walls for any hollow spaces by tapping the old stones until he stepped onto a pressure plate that opened a wall within the basement room he was in. The lich quickly explored the hidden dirt tunnel and found himself in a massive chamber that was deep under the castle. The hill that it rested upon having been dug into for what looked like a meeting place. 

 

Nyse suspected that some sort of cultists or usurpers had used the space but none could be seen nor were there any remains of the two. Nyse rummaged through chests, bookshelves, a couple of safes, and a large vase but still didn’t find what his compass was saying was near. He let out a long sigh due to how boring and uneventful the castle was and decided to sit back on a chair at the head of a long table in the middle of the meeting area. Doing so made another mechanism respond and a corpse would drop from the ceiling right in front of the lich, making him fall out of the chair as the dead body smacked onto the table. Nyse slowly looked from behind the chair he was hiding behind to see that the corpse had a crown on its head, a knife between its ribs, and a tattered book clutched in its left hand. 

 

“Oh thank goodness...it’s just a dead body.” Nyse said to himself with relief and took the book from the clutches of the dead man, replacing the book he took with a goblet on the table. Nyse flipped through the book as he used a little bit of magic to put the royal remains in the chair he fell out of and sat it up. The book was a rare find! A grimoire of one of the first human necromancers that was alive during the time of the Arch Lich. Nyse was trying not to get over excited lest his heart might start back up but he chuckled at the thought since he’s been dead for centuries. The lore hungry lich lightly skimmed through the grimoire and closed it to put it in his bag, very excited that he had such a good find! Nyse began to make his way out from under the castle and back up the stairs to return to the main floor in about twenty or so minutes. He could have talked to the corpse that almost dive bombed him but he decided against it and would leave the old bones in peace at the head of that table. 

 

After Nyse had left the castle there was an odd wind that swept across the area, picking up before suddenly dying down again. In the distance overlooking the secluded castle was a figure in a robe and bird mask like that of a plague doctor. They had been there for quite some time and would vanish from the treetops in the distance. The figure had been talked about only in myths and legends surrounding the underbelly of the world. Dealing with those who worship the undead and dark arts. They are many and called the Eyes of the Council. Nyse has been seen and unblinking eyes will follow. 

 

-x-

 

The Elder Council saw through the eyes of their top crow and seemed pleased in their scouting but after waving the image away from a large crystal ball they started to grumble. Their plans for retrieving necessary information for unlocking the secrets that the Arch Lich knew without the full use of the necronomicon. However, without the sacred undead text, the Elder Council would have a considerable lack of power and knowledge at their disposal. The head of the council stood and walked to the center of the frozen chamber, looking at their fellow undead in their thrones. The circular chamber went silent as the leader cleared his throat.

 

“Brethren. We have been searching for the tomb of the Arch Lich for countless centuries and with each passing year we grow closer to finding that which is sacred to us. Even the interruptions with the so called ‘holy warriors’ have done little to slow our progress but the biggest threat is one of our own.” Said the Eldest of the Council, his voice raspy and dry but chilling the air with every visible breath. After he spoke the council looked amongst one another and lightly spoke before settling back into dead silence. 

“This...individual goes by the name “Nyse” and has been seen going to remote locations that have had cult activity in the past or known areas of black magic. Taking any forms of preserved knowledge and going to the next. Our crows think he is trying to find the necronomicon with all the knowledge he is gathering.”

This news greatly upset the council and the chamber grew loud with anger. Every Elder Lich talking amongst one another and others arguing over the other until the High Elder summoned a large warhammer and dropped it on the ground. The sound of the ancient weapon hitting the ground killed the noise in an instant and returned the calm to the room. 

 

“I have had the crows roost in locations we have planned to search in the future and those we will send the lesser beings to soon. However, I given personal orders to Nilus to follow Nyse personally. So far he has not been discovered and has been in constant contact giving accurate information. We will not pursue this stray lich until he is proven a threat to our plans directly.” said the High Elder. The rest of the council seemed to be in agreement with the silence until one slowly stood.

“High Elder Lictus, I, Dark Magus Terillian, wish to see that we take a more active move against this so called ‘Elder Lich’/ They seem to be moving closer and closer to our path to finding the Arch Lich’s sacred text.” 

High Elder Lictus slowly raised a brow at the Dark Magus and looked at the other 2 that sat next to Terillian. They nodded to the High Elder as they were in agreement with the outspoken Magus. 

“The Dark Magi share Terillian’s idea of being more active against Nyse. Are there any others who agree with the three?” Lictus asked to the rest of the council. Only two from the Necrophytes standing and one Shadow Seer. Lictus then returned his gaze to Terillian who simply nodded and sat back down between the other Dark Magi. Lictus then returned to his seat to conclude the meeting. The Elder Liches all leave except for the High Elder as they were his chambers. High Elder Lictus sat back in his throne of ice and bone with a slow breath. Multiple plans were being formed within his ancient mind until he actively thought of the lone lich. 

 

“Nyse...You have the Eyes of the Council on you. Hopefully fate will have your path never cross ours.”


	3. Death, Decay, and Devotion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nyse's continues his quest for knowledge but comes across something rather odd. Something he didn't think would happen for as long as his unlife would last. However, Lydia remains on her target's trail from Bonfire. Her and her group trying their best to keep up in unfamiliar territory.

Lydia had been at Bonfire for a full week after Nyse had come and gone. Hours upon hours of interviews, searching through homes, inspecting corpses, and finally inspecting the temple where the late High Priest Yor was slain. Nothing, besides the blood stains that were hard to get out, was out of the ordinary. She looked under the altar after a few large men moved it and poured over the chest that was smashed in. The lock sealing it shut was still in one piece but the top had a large hole in it. Nothing else around would have given Lydia a hint to how a single lich did all of this and walked away without so much as a limp. She got a very detailed description from those that were present in the temple during the attack and was taken back at how every person she questioned described the lich as “very human lookin’ “.

 

The inquisitor was about to give up at Bonfire as she had no leads to even start a trail or good guess. Lydia was packing her bags and gathering all the equipment she brought with her but stopped when she was approached by the farmer who first saw the undead horde. He was a bit short, round, balding, and had come fresh from working the fields. She looked him over and waited for him to respond but he seemed to be troubled with how tightly he held his hat in his hands. 

 

“M-madam Inquisitor, my name is B-Bert Hardt and I’m the one who s-s-saw the dead coming. I..I have something important to tell you i-if I may?” he asked nervously, obviously not having talked to a high ranking official before. It seemed the same with everyone else she talked to as the only one of any status in the town had turned the altar pink. 

 

“If you have anything that may aid in my investigation then speak of it but quickly. I am on official Order business and I will not have it wasted.” Lydia said to the farmer. She kept a strict tone to keep the appearance of firm and strong inquisitors. She was superior to the common masses but at heart was rather shy and didn’t like talking to others in general. Being a redhead and shy in her line of work was something very out of the ordinary. So she would adopt the Fiery side of the stereotype to keep up appearances. 

 

The farmer stayed silent for a minute before snapping back to reality, his eyes being locked to her hard staring green ones. “Y-yes, of course! After the um...lich..had left I-I saw it walking through the north gate. S-s-seemed they was in a hurry, ma’am.” replied Bert, wiping his brow with a rag he took from his pocket. 

 

Upon hearing what the old farmer said, Lydia packed up her things and slung two bags over her shoulders. She held Bert’s hands and looked deeply into his eyes with a large smile. 

“Bless you, Bert Hardt, you have made my job a lot easier to ending an unholy abomination.” Lydia said as she gave Bert a gold coin as reward and a quick blessing.

Bert went wide eyed with praise and was silent. Lydia, however, didn’t want to waste any more time and gathered the soldiers sent to accompany her to start heading out the north gate. Armed with this new information, she could finally make some headway into ending the unlife of Nyse. She wasn’t hot on the trail but a rolling stone could start an avalanche and she would bring enough to come crashing down on Nyse.

-x-

 

The hunted necromancer would be miles away from where he once was a week ago and would keep the lead stronger than the inquisitor would. He did not require sleep, food or drink, and did not tire like the flimsy mortals that would attempt to follow after him. He only kept to his quest and read along the way as his compass would point him in the direction of more bits of knowledge. Big or small, Nyse would get there even plenty of times he would have been gravely injured. But his will was strong and his magic stronger, providing him with more than enough motivation for his own hunt for a book of a deadman.

 

From the castle he was last at, Nyse had traveled two days distance in just one and was halfway to another destination that his compass was leading him to. The road from Bonfire, to the castle, and the current road was nice and formed to being just a beaten path. There were no stone or wooden short walls on either sides or road signs that the Holy Empire loved so much to lead the way. However, Nyse didn’t mind where he went as long as wherever he was headed had what he wanted.

 

Nyse arrived at a rather old and dilapidated hamlet that made home close to a large lake. It seemed abandoned until he heard footsteps faintly against the frequently treaded earth that ran throughout the small settlement. The necromancer turned to see who was walking nearby and was surprised to see children running around chasing after a crudely made ball that was bound in leather. They were oblivious to his presence as the small group of children continued to kick the ball around until they were out of side behind a grain mill. He continued on and took another look at his compass, turning right to go deeper into the town where he would find more people walking about and doing their odd human things.

 

Those of the hamlet were talking to friends or co-workers, keeping to themselves but eyes would start to turn at the sight of the large man walking through their home. Not every head was turning and staring but the topic of plenty of conversations shifted to the cloaked stranger. Nyse paid no mind to the squabbles of lesser creatures and stopped at what looked like the home of whoever lead the hamlet. Nyse’s compass was entirely black and that was more than enough motivation for him to open the door and enter. 

 

The building, if one could call it that, was old and smelled as such. The wood creaked with every step to betray the lich’s location to the people in the current room and probably the upper floors as well. There was a young woman behind the desk with brown hair in a bun, an older man with a woman who was presumably his wife at a table holding some papers, a dog lying down on the floor where the sun shined through a grimy window, and lastly a short old man coming down the stairs. Every step the elderly man took was greeted with a little groan or sigh after three steps, proving his age and failing body as the years slowly collected their due. He had a cane and looked at Nyse as the lich stood at the desk, but the old man seemed surprised and had wide eyes. 

He fumbled to pull his glasses from a front coat pocket and with them finally on he looked as if he’d seen an angel. The woman behind the desk looked to the elder and was confused as were the rest of the people on the first floor. Their attention was now on the tall undead who had locked his eyes on the short old man, seemingly peering into his soul. The room felt tense and still for minutes until the old man moved closer to Nyse, digging into one of his pants pockets to pull out a coin with a skull engraved into it. He held the coin up and out towards Nyse and bowed his head. 

 

“My prayers have been answered at long last..You have come, just as the Arch Lich promised!” said the elder with eyes full of odd hope. He kept his hands outstretched with the coin for Nyse to take, his eyes never leaving the glowing green ones of the one he was promised to meet. 

 

Nyse took the coin and inspected it carefully. It was a simple silver coin with careful carvings; a skull but one that grinned with malice. The background was that of symbols in the language of the undead and the other side had his own name etched into it. 

“Who are you, old man? And how do you know my name?” asked Nyse, very curious as to how this human was promised something by the Arch Lich. Not even the blind prophets had been blessed with a vision or vague clue from the Arch Lich and they had been alive before he was born!

The elder put his hands down and cleared his throat, coughing into his hand before wiping it off with a handkerchief he had in his other pocket. 

“I, like many others of this hamlet, have been working tirelessly for the Arch Lich and those who serve under him. We hold sermons from the Mortus Liber and have remained hidden from the Order of the Torch for generations. I was told a specific name and that I must give you something.” said the elder before he went looked at the woman behind the desk and snapped his fingers. She quickly took a necklace from a box decorated with bone and held it to the elder who then gave it to Nyse. 

 

Nyse could feel the power emanating before the box was opened and was almost taken aback at how mere cultists could have gotten and hidden such a powerful item! He could feel the chill of death tug at his being and when the necklace was around his neck he felt a surge of necromantic power. His reaction made the others in the room gasp in surprise as Nyse had taken a step back and seemed shaken before regaining his footing. 

 

“This necklace...where did you get it? Who did it belong to, old man?” Nyse asked as he admired the dark blue gem hanging from the black chain. 

 

“It was once worn by the Arch Lich himself, my lord. In my youth I received horrific nightmares of demons and horrid creatures ruling the lands. But one night I was given a dream. A dream of you! It was you standing in this very room wearing the necklace that was brought to me the morning after this blessed dream. Horsemen clad in rusted and broken armour riding upon decaying horses with banners I have never seen before. One beckoned me and when I was close enough to see the riders glossy eyes he gave be the box containing the necklace. Before they left into the morning mist they said but one name...Nyse” the elder said as he recalled the memory perfectly. He could no longer remember the face of his only grandson but that dream was so clear it was as if he had dreamt it yesterday. 

 

Nyse admired the necklace as he listened to the small man go on about some dream he had for most of his early adult life. He then tucked the necklace under his cloak to keep it out of sight and reached into one of his pants pockets to fish out a handful of gold coins and left them on the desk. The necromancer was all for taking knowledge from the dead or dust filled chambers but he repaid gifts. This surprised the people in the room and were stunned more by the gold than having a lich standing in their presence. 

 

“M-my lord you are too kind! We are but lowly mortals, you needn’t waste such wealth on us I assure you that no reward is required!” was all the elder managed to sputter out before he was silenced by the lich’s raised hand. The room stayed quiet but sound would fill it when Nyse headed for the door. 

 

Nyse didn’t turn back but took a slow breath before speaking a final time to the cultists.

“Thank you for the gift, elder, I greatly appreciate it. It’s importance will be cherished and kept on my person at all times. However, I care not for your humility. I don’t know how other liches repay gifts but this one knows how to be respectful even if you are but time sensitive bags of meat lugging around a soul.” was he said before leaving the townhouse to head out through the other exit. The money he left was nowhere near enough for such an item, but seeing how poor the town was it didn’t matter. Nyse knew it would be more than enough as he was guessed that the amount of gold he left was more than anyone in that entire hamlet had ever seen or ever will see.

 

Clouds had started to brew by the time Nyse started to leave the poorly made wooden walls of the hamlet, being lightly sprinkled in water before the rain quickly started to pour. He kept his hood down and continued on the now soft dirt path. He lightly rubbed the necklace between his right index finger and thumb as the rain beat down on him, thinking of how he would lose the tails he had grown. Having known of one by the birds following him more than usual but the newest one was...interesting. He had learned of this when he listened to the corpses that haven’t been buried at the town of Bonfire. The connection still strong but after he heard the inquisitor was heading out in the same direction he had left his mind would have more thoughts than before. The dead are never silent if one knows how to speak to them and word between the lips of deceased traveled faster than one could imagine. 

 

The Hamlet that Nyse had left was outside and collecting lots of rain water with buckets and any containers they could find. They had a few wells but rainwater was better for the crops and body, or so they believed. The rain lasted for hours and the simple folk of the nameless hamlet would all gather into the townhouse but every man, woman, and child could never fit in it even with three stories! Unless they went underground.. The town had entered a subterranean church that was devoted to the dark arts. It was as if the unholy place of worship spanned the entire hamlet with wide walls and a tall ceiling. The walls decorated with the bones of those before into odd murals or offering imagery of passages from the Mortus Liber. Skulls were used as candle holders and the pews were of a wood stronger than that which made the homes above ground. An altar of smooth stone was where the elderly man from before was at, leading the entire hamlet in an unholy prayer to draw energy from their ancestors remains to fuel the land. 

 

These heretical sermons would last hours with every person cloaked in full black, their faces hidden except for skull masks. They believed humans are to serve those who command the dead and are living on borrowed time since their births. Every cultist fanatical but knew how to play the part of those who lived in the Holy Empire in case missionaries were to somehow find their blasphemous home. The Mortus Liber was bound in flesh and written in a white ink made from ground bones of the faithful to the archangels. It would only be a matter of time before the prophecies in that dark tome would come true or be proven false. But until then they stay devoted in their hidden hamlet. They all will stay devoted to the end, unfortunately, it may be sooner than they think.

 

-x-

 

Lydia had followed a loose trail of eaten bread crumbs for days now, having to backtrack often and had to rely on a gut feeling for some directions that weren’t on any of the maps she had. Tracking a lich was no easy task and one so swift and careful was on the border of impossible! The prints of heeled boots would have stayed in the wet mud of the roads for a few days but it is as if the necromancer stepped as light as a cloud. Lydia and her group were exhausted by the fourth day of trying to follow an almost non-existent trail. By this time Nyse would have been a full week ahead of the inquisitor. 

 

Lydia decided to stop and make camp as she saw the sun was going down and the rest of her party sighed heavily in relief. Their feet, backs, and joints ache from carrying around equipment and full armor along with personal weapons. The camp was up within the hour and as soon as the stars started to dot the sky the humans had a fire going. The air was crisp and almost bone chilling before the sun fully settled. No wind, no clouds to cover the endless sky, and no trees above them. Lydia had chosen a clear patch of dirt as to avoid an ambush and to lessen fear in the dark in case something worse than bandits lurked in the shadows. 

 

It was a full moon out that night. Talk of werewolves and nude witches dancing to forest spirits and demons were tossed around the campfire but were quickly silenced by the inquisitor. She would not have her ears suffer such talk of heresies and would condemn the next man who spoke of superstition. However, Lydia did feel the fear creep up her back as her mind raced back to the story of werewolves one soldier told. It was as if that man had actually been face to face with one of those beasts! Such vivid detail made her shake her head before she turned in for the night in her tent with a silver dagger under her pillow.

 

Lydia was the first up and fully dressed in gear, having packed up her gear before any others were awake. They ate breakfast but were back on the trail in about an hour, much farther behind the trail of Nyse. 

 

“Inquisitor Bright? Pardon me asking, ma’am, but the me and the lads were wondering what exactly are we hunting? We was just told to pack up and follow you wherever you pointed to. And I know we were told to not ask questions but...I, and the others, would like to know what we are trying to put down or what might put us down.” asked one of the crossbowmen. He wore leathers under his metal breast plate, pants with shin guards, tough leather arm covers, and a black bandana. He hasn’t shaven and had a strong shadow with brown eyes above a badly healed broken nose. 

 

Lydia looked back at the man and the others kept their distance, not wanting to be caught in the wrath of an inquisitor. 

“What was your name again, arbalest?” she asked, eyeing him down to catch every detail quickly before her sharp eyes met his. 

 

A minute held his voice captive before he finally broke free. “M-Milton Atria, m’lady.” was all he managed to say before swallowing. 

 

“We’re hunting a Lich. The one that attacked the border town of Bonfire, Mr. Atria. Just a single one. So memorize your prayers, remember the symbols of protection, keep your silver handy, and pray that you won’t be turned against your fellow man” she said with authority and some weight as she wanted to get her point across without having to repeat herself or answer any more questions. Milton would nod quickly and so would the rest of the party, being as silent as mice in the dead of night. After she answered, Lydia continued to walk forward down a beaten path towards a hamlet that was oddly unmarked on her map.

 

-x-

 

The sky was grey despite it being midday by the time Inquisitor Bright and her party carefully made their way towards the unmarked hamlet, not making the minds of the faithful any lighter. The homes, if one could call them that, looked only moments from breaking down completely. Even the wind was making the old and weak wood creak and groan with the slightest breeze. But with how much it rained the other day it was a wonder how these poorly made buildings were still standing. 

 

Lydia had put the thought aside for later and continued through the hamlet’s main path to find the townhouse. She and the others of her group were very tense and on edge as the air felt weighted, making their legs feel like lead but also weak like jelly. The loose and wet ground beneath their armor and gear didn’t help either as Milton almost slipped but instead fell to one knee before carefully getting back to both feet. Lydia could not see or hear a soul in sight the closer they got to the largest building they could find, wondering if it were as abandoned as it seemed. 

 

However that thought would be betrayed within a couple of seconds as the door to the townhouse would be opened by a short old man. He seemed just as surprised as the holy warriors were when they made eye contact, being only inches from one another. The elder didn’t close the door but stayed in the doorway as he looked over each one of the strangers before standing a bit straighter. 

 

“May I help you, ma’am? You and your well protected companions seem lost and in need of shelter. I am willing to offer a helping hand if you would accept a humble old man” said the elder as he stepped back and out of the way, motioning for Lydia and the others to come inside. 

 

All six of the party enter the townhouse despite the protest the floorboards made to the weight of each step. Both the metal clad soldiers look about the room and stand by an empty desk as the other two arbalests chose to stand by windows opposite to one another. Lastly, the priest that accompanied them took a seat in a rocking chair with a loud sigh, their old bones needing the rest after all the walking Lydia put them through. 

 

“Blessings upon you elder for offering us your home. But may I ask where the others living here are? We have yet to see anyone but you, elder, and this hamlet was also not marked on any of our maps.” Lydia said to the old man but he only stroked his long beard with a low hum in response. 

 

He didn’t answer and walked to the desk to fish for something in the drawers for a short while before putting a wrinkled piece of paper on the desk. The elder spread the paper out and tried to smoothen out a few creases and folds before he was satisfied. What he had rubbed for a solid minute was a map of the area and he pointed to a dot where they were. 

 

“Well maybe not any of your maps but on ours we have always been here, ma’am. Haven’t grown in generations but we don’t like to draw attention to ourselves. We just like living peacefully and staying busy with work or worship.” said the elder as Lydia came over to the desk to see the black dot labeled “Hethel”. 

 

“I will make sure to remember that when I return to the capitol but you haven’t answered my question about the people living here. Are they out in fields or by the lake we saw? Or in the woods or is there a mine?” Lydia questioned, putting her inquisitorial skills to work into reading the golden aged man for anything that might be out of the ordinary. 

 

The old man stood up and popped his back before turning to face the inquisitor fully with a smile that seemed warm but was void of warmth. 

“They are all busy with the days work of course! Children are learning, adults are working, and the sick or old are in their homes resting. It is midday after all. Why do you ask? Are you looking for someone perhaps?” 

 

His question made Lydia question what the old man was getting at but her head snapped to the sudden noise behind the wall. A younger woman was carrying a large tray with cups and a pot but they froze in the open passageway between the rooms as she saw the inquisitor and her men. The young woman seemed almost terrified! Frozen in place until the elder lightly patted her arm and motioned for her to set down and set the tea. The room fell silent except for the cups being set on a table by the priest in the rocking chair. The young woman would pour the tea, put two sugars each, and then left in a hurry. 

 

Lydia was again bombarded with questions as she sensed something wasn’t right about this place. Even in the most remote areas within the Holy Empire there were people who were out and about either taking breaks from working hard or would at least look through their windows. But nothing of the sort happened and it was raising numerous red flags! However, she tried to calm down and instead went for some tea as the others did in hopes it would ease her nerves. Their journey would be very dangerous so taking breaks when given the chance would be for the best. 

 

The tea was freshly brewed and the cups were hot to the touch. All six of Lydia’s party blew on their drinks before carefully sipping in silence, looking at one another before setting their cups down. Those who lived in Beacon have been taught to drink tea or other brewed drinks when they were hot as to keep pace with whomever was serving them, but also knew how not to burn their tongues and enjoy the drinks offered to them. After Lydia finished her tea and set the cup down she would turn to the elder again for more questions but felt something wasn’t right. Physically this time instead of a metaphoric ‘gut feeling’.

 

Milton and the other arbalest would suddenly fall to the ground and the two soldiers would follow suit with heavy thuds against the old wooden floor! The priest looked at the unconscious men and dropped his cup as whatever affected the 4 men before took longer for the priest. He too slumped over in the chair and Lydia was struggling to stay on her feet, wobbling a little as her vision was getting dark around the edges and blurry. The old man walked over and only chuckled lightly at the struggling inquisitor.

 

“Ah I see that those of the light are still as stupid as ever. However, Inquisitor, I was surprised at how quickly you were catching on. Unfortunately for you there will be no help from any angels or faithful souls this day. Your heaven is void of light and soon you will be as well.” said the elder as Lydia tried to take out her sword and slash at him but passed out mid-swing, the weapon hitting the floor with a loud thud. Her world would fade to black before her body hit the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would like to say thank you to my bestie, Cayla, and friend Aly for helping read over and edit. Trying to not be discouraged by the slow start to this story and those two and others are helping with that. I really appreciate the comfort they bring :((


	4. Faith and Fury

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lydia and her group are within the belly of the first of many beasts. The Cult of Hallowed Remains threatens to sacrifice them deep underground within their unholy church. Meanwhile, Nyse continues to wander and finds himself deep within the Dark Forest. Dense with thick and massive trees, the forest holds many secrets and hidden life within its depths. Beasts, Bones, and Battles await!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry that this has taken a bit longer than usual but I've been in a slump and a funk. But I have been working on this chapter little by little and am getting ready to reveal more of the story and how it will affect Nyse.

Lydia woke with a sudden jolt, matted in a cold sweat as her heart pounded in her chest. Her mind raced as it tried to gather the information before everything went black but would snap out of her rapid thoughts when someone placed a hand on her shoulder. Her head snapped up to see who it was and dropped her shoulders at the sight of Bishop Dyph. The old bishop smiled to her as he took a seat by the bed. Neither of the two spoke. Their eyes locked until Bishop Dyph sighed softly and leaned forward as if to say something.She followed suit and leaned in a little, wondering if her mentor had something secretive to say.

 

“We know what you seek, child. We will not let you disturb our lord and his work. You and your companions will meet your end here.” said Dyph in a neutral tone as his eyes pierced the now frightened inquisitor’s soul. 

 

Panic started to set in as Lydia tried to get up but found her wrists were strapped to the bed. Her heart now frantically beating against the bone that protected it as Dyph rose and loomed over her. His robes went from the pure white and gold to a blood red as Lydia stared in horror. She frantically tried to free herself but the restraints only held tighter as the bishop’s mouth opened wider than any normal human. No noise came out of the gaping maw of the bishop until an unholy, blood curdling scream came out that drowned out Lydia’s own. 

 

The feral howl continued as Dyph’s hands gripped tightly around the inquisitor, staring into her teary eyes as he choked the life from her. She gasped for air and kicked her legs against the restraints, thrashing to try and keep fighting for more seconds of life. Suddenly the screaming stopped, the only sound that could be heard was heavy breathing. The demonic looking Dyph pulled a hand from Lydia’s marked throat before plunging them deep into her skull.

 

-x-

 

Lydia gasped loudly as she had woken up bound to a large stone altar, her nightmare only being in her mind until she realized she woke up to another one entirely. Low chants from what looked like a large underground cathedral of heresy filled her ears as she slowly gathered her bearings. Again being bound and unarmed but at least clothed...somewhat. Her armor had been tossed aside as she lay on the cold stone altar, only in the under clothes of her blouse and brown pants. The room echoed the cultists chants until they were slowly silenced by a figure in a dark robe enter from the shadows to the altar with a skulled mask covering their face. 

 

“My children of the night we have been blessed not once but twice this week. First being greeted with the presence of Lord Nyse and now six of the wretched faith for sacrifice!” said the robed figure as he addressed all of the dark mass. The huddled masses of cultists responded in union with short prayer. 

 

The room fell silent as another robed figure came from behind the one who spoke, holding out a ritualistic knife. 

“For you, Death Speaker Rags.” said the cultist to the Death Speaker. He took the knife and held it up to the dim light to admire the design before slowly running the flat end of the blade against Lydia’s cheek. 

 

“Such quality skin...I could make another Liber from it along with the generous donations from your companions. Although they would just be pages. You, my dear, would have the honor of being the face.” said the Death Speaker with a quick lick of his lips, having Lydia’s skin crawl in response. She turned her face from the blade the best she could and would not look at the heathen. 

 

“You are nothing but scum! Traitors to the gifts of the Archangels and will face their holy judgement! Every single last one of you heretics!” shouted Lydia as she struggled against the bindings. Her outburst of faith and hatred for those who turned their backs on the angels and those before them had made the crowd of cloaked heretics roar with laughter, mocking Lydia and others hurled insults at her. 

 

The Death Speaker looked over the inquisitor before nodding to the other cultist behind him. A minute passed before muffled protest could be heard from the darkness as they brought forth one of Lydia’s party members. It was Milton! He was bound and gagged and placed on another altar next to her. His eyes full of fear as he was drenched in sweat, looking to the inquisitor for help but she couldn’t do anything but watch. The Death Speaker would rub the blade with a cloth, cleaning it as he walked over to Milton while he stared down Lydia. 

 

Milton’s heart pounded in his chest as the Death Speaker made his way to his side, looking at the knife wielding heathen and tried to say something against the gag in his mouth. Only muffled noises came from the arbalest as the noise from the other cultists drowned him out. The Death Speaker raised his hands to demand silence that was quickly given to him. He leaned down and slowly removed the gag from Milton’s mouth as he was curious about what the man had to say. 

 

“Lady Lydia...I fear not death but only a job unfinished. I know the Archangels will save my soul for the Crystal City but the blackest depths of the Soul Realm will take these lost fools. Please, Lydia, finish this.” Milton said as tears burned down his cheeks, eyes locked with Lydia who’s eyes felt the sting of her own tears. Milton didn’t look away but his face distorted in pain as the Death Speaker plunged the blade deep into his chest, making the man’s back arch as he screamed in pain before lying lifeless on the altar. 

 

The cult cheered with twisted at the first sacrifice as Lydia’s cried out in anguish but she was drowned out by the dark mass. She struggled against the tightly bound ropes more and tried working some of the knots. The Death Speaker was preoccupied with carving out Milton’s oddly still beating heart, finally having it held high for all the cult to see. 

 

However, Lydia had experience from both training and field experience against a few savage tribes years ago. The Death Speaker placed Milton’s heart in a jar that another cultist carried off to a back room as the Death Speaker chanted over Milton’s body. The poor man’s body was still oozing crimson life but the ritual that the dark priest continued bought Lydia enough time to get her hands free. Her legs were still bound but she stayed still and kept ready for when it was her time under the knife, her eyes now locked onto the cult leader.

 

The Death Speaker held the blood drenched blade over Lydia’s chest and stared directly into her hate filled eyes. He held the blade with both hands and began to chant a dark passage from the Mortus Liber but before he could finish, Lydia reached up with her left hand to grab the knife hilt and twisted it to stab the Death Speaker in the throat! It all happened in one solid motion, being too fast to see for others and the cult leader didn’t notice it until he couldn’t feel himself speaking anymore. His eyes shot open in surprise as he started to gurgle in pain and fear, his eyes locking onto the inquisitor before she shoved him off to fall over and drown in his own blood.

 

The cult grew silent but Lydia didn’t waste any time and freed herself of the bindings and quickly ran towards her companions. She killed two more cultists standing in her way hastily as they couldn’t keep up with her speed and agility. The room finally started to fill with panic along with the screams from the cultists. Lydia started to undo the bindings of the others in her party, getting them equipped with their weapons that ranged from sword and shield, to cross bow, Lydia’s personal sword, and finally the staff of the old priest. They were armed with faith and steel but the cloaked horde before them made the hope of survival seem all but impossible.

 

The cultists stared at the surrounded faithful with pure hatred, clutching their farming tools and daggers tight. They lacked proper weapons and training but they had zealtry and numbers on their side. The two groups stood and waited for the other to make the first move, Lydia having taken the lead with her sword outstretched. 

 

One lone cultist couldn’t take the stillness any longer and threw herself at the inquisitor and was cut down in one strike but Lydia didn’t take her gaze off the horde. After the death of but one heretic the rest followed suit with an ear splitting outcry for blood, death, and revenge. They climbed up the steps to the altar and the sides of the elevated platform, being cut down by the two soldiers and Lydia, shot by blessed bolts from the arbalest, and clubbed with the staff of the priest. However, for every heathen they cut down three more would take their place like a hydra of damnation!

 

They were an unholy legion. Each one, every man, woman, child, and elderly all entered the fray for the reward of death or slaughtering those of the faith they despised. Corpses quickly littered the altar and soon a ramp of freshly slain corpses made a ramp to the stalwart faithful, having matched the never ending swarm of cultists in fury and energy. Lydia and her companions were slowly baptised in the fires of battle, drenched in the blood of their enemy, and almost drunk on the constant stream of adrenaline as they fought for their lives and souls. Lydia, however, had started to move much faster and cut deeper the more the fighting went on. The beat of her heart like rapid drum with every felled heretic, her blade stained crimson of the damned. The other two soldiers had struggled to keep the pace with Lydia but it seemed she wouldn’t slow or stop, showing no signs of fatigue despite the mountain of corpses at her feet!

 

The air grew hot as the fighting carried on, the party soaked in blood and sweat. They looked for fires in case the cultists grew desperate and tried to burn them in the underground church but spied none. The source was found when the priest made note of how the air was almost searing around Lydia and how heavily she breathed. The battle was exhausting and strained them all but the inquisitor seemed to be running ragged despite how hard she had been fighting. The priest almost collapsed when Lydia turned around, her eyes glowing a bright golden light! 

 

The old priest of the group was uttering multiple prayers ranging from protection to reciting certain prophecies from the faith’s mythology. The others took a look at the priest but returned their gaze to Lydia but kept their distance as the heat was almost unbearable the closer they were to their leader. Lydia glanced at the priest before she turned to face the regrouped mass of cultists, letting out an ear piercing scream before diving into the crowd. She seemed to not care about the dangers the seemingly endless horde posed, moving like water and cut down every man, woman, and child until she let out another feral scream. The last one caused an eruption of blinding light from Lydia that filled every nook and cranny of the place of unholy worship. 

 

The rest of the inquisitor’s party had shielded their eyes and slowly looked around at the bodies that lay motionless on the ground. Lydia was left standing but was not conscious, her eyes dull and stared ahead after expending all of the energy within her body. The priest carefully walked up to her and examined her body before waving the others over. 

 

“Th-th-this is..oh by the Archangels...this is something t-truly divine. I dare say our lady inquisitor has the powers of the Archangels within her very being. As if..a-as if her soul were touched to root out the darkest of heresies and blackest of magics and rituals!” The old priest said and looked to the soldiers and arbalest who only returned looks of confusion but did not question the second holiest of the group. The priest’s knowledge was indeed more of their inquisitor due to age and research but he lacked the field experience unlike Lydia. 

 

“Well, Father Gael, what do we do now? I think these lot are all dead. They sure smell charred and none are groanin’ or coughing. It’d be best to burn this place down and get going before something worse shows up.” said the more experienced of the two soldiers, having the greyed hair and full beard to show, his voice deep and rough. A scar across his right eye that half blinded him during the still ongoing ‘Bone Wars’ against the Skeleton King and his unending skeletal armies.

 

Father Gael lightly tapped on Lydia’s limbs and pressed his ear to her chest, finding a slow rhythmic beating and gave a nod to the soldier. 

“Indeed, Sir Yerin, but carefully. We must ensure her safety for she is a living miracle and will be of great importance later on! I just know it!” said Father Gael to the old soldier who simply nodded and nudged the other soldier to help him. 

 

“Get the legs, Joseph, I’ll get the arms.” Yerin told the younger soldier, getting the upper side as Joseph got Lydia’s limp legs. They carefully carried her out through a flight of stairs with Father Gael while the arbalest, Nidhen, gathered any items of worth before he tossed multiple torches around. Soon the underground church would catch fire and spread quickly, smoke funneling out of the numerous staircases and small holes in the ceiling for air flow. 

 

When the group returned to the surface they were inside the townhouse like before, leaving it in a hurry and turned to watch it go up in flames. Sir Yerin rested Lydia on his back, carrying her on his back like a child who fell asleep on the walk home. Nihden would keep setting the homes on fire as the party made their way to the front gates of the hamlet, leaving it to turn to ash by nightfall.

 

-x-

 

The forest was thick and almost impossible to navigate. Trees thicker than oaks were almost crammed together, making old paths useless. Nyse had to travel by the direction his compass gave him, however, he had to take detours when coming across local wildlife. He could wave off bears and packs of wolves, normal or dire, but he wished not to come into contact with the beast kin. He had no quarrel with them, no hatred for them unlike the living, but he looked too much like those warm bodies for them to tell the difference upon first glance. His scent or lack of a heart beat should give it away in an instant to the older beast kin of a tribe. 

 

Nyse did take in the view of the dense and almost total blackness of the forest he walked through, finding the quiet and calm much like the sweet sleep of death. The chill due to the lack of sunlight making him even more relaxed, letting himself be immersed in stillness of the quiet forest. Step after step drew him closer to where the compass lead him, his head tilted back to catch little bits of sun poking through the thick canopy. Even with the many branches and dried leaves on the ground, Nyse made no noise as he stepped over them. He didn’t even try to step over them or try to keep quiet.

 

The silence would be broken by the sudden sound of a tree being knocked over that were followed by heavy steps. The ground trembled slightly, not enough to knock Nyse off balance but just enough to knock him out of his tranquil peace. His head turned instantly to his left at as he heard it much more clearly. The creature wasn’t close but was close enough to smell and hear, at least for Nyse and his heightened senses. 

 

The thing roaming the forest was a large beast clad in thick fur, protecting itself from the elements and other lesser creatures. From the weight against the ground with every step, Nyse would have guessed that it’s height was almost equal to the canopy of the massive trees that made up the forest he was in. He stood at Seven feet and Five inches, tall even among other Elder Liches, but even he didn’t come close to the height of the forest. The trees were older than him by the thickness and feel of life within them, making Nyse wonder how those annoying flesh bags had not tried to tear this all down for more of their precious cities. 

 

As Nyse continued through the forest he would stop when the heavy steps did, taking a look around before starting to move again. His pace quickened but would stop again shortly after when he came face to face with a large bear! He blinked in surprise at how well the creature blended in and half expected it to attack him but instead the beast stood up on it’s back legs? It was a beast-kin! The upright bear tilted its head at the necromancer and sniffed cautiously, snorting after a few quick sniffs. 

 

They both eyed each other curiously for a couple of minutes before the bear turned around and walked forward slowly, stopping to motion that the lich should follow. Nyse took the hint and followed close behind but not too close. He trusted animals and beast-kin over humans due to their lack of deception that pink skins harbored in their hearts. Their false claims to righteousness making his eyes roll every time the thought would cross his mind, but he pushed it away and focused on the now. 

 

Soon the two arrived at a clearing in the thick trees to what looked like an entire tribe of various beast-kin. Their crude huts were made of sticks, leaves, mud, and other bone trinkets that adorned them. Those living there would turn from what they were doing to stare at the returning bear and the undead who accompanied him, all sniffing at the air at him as the stench of death was faint to normal beings but strong to them. 

 

The bear continued to walk towards a large hut in the middle that was pointed at the top but opened at the tip for smoke to come out, looking like the home of an elder or shaman. Beast-kin were known to be connected to the realm of spirits and that connection became stronger the more they aged so it wouldn’t be uncommon for the elder of a tribe to also be its shaman. Nyse looked at the bear that stood next to the hut’s door flap that was made of leaves and vegetation, being motioned to the door with a light grunt from the large beast. The necromancer slowly moved the natural door aside as he stepped into the dark hut, the only light coming from the hole at the top of the hot and dying fire. 

 

Inside sat an old and haunched beast-kin that had wild fur that was grey with black peppered in, showing more age as its original colour was almost entirely gone. The beast-kin was another bear but smaller than the one outside and seemed to be blind. The old creature’s eyes slowly opened to reveal glossy and clouded orbs, further proving its blindness as it felt around the ground for a large stick. 

 

“Take a seat, undead one. It is hard to stand in my old age.” the aged bear said speaking slowly, their voice sounded dry as if he needed a drink. “I am sure that you already know that I expected you when you first entered these woods. The trees told me before I could feel your unnatural ‘life’.”

 

Nyse slowly took a seat across the fire from the elder and eyed him over to find a loose fitting robe, the staff at his feet, a necklace of what looked like talismans and charms, and a tuft of fur on his right paw that was bald in the shape of a crescent moon. He listened to the elder speak and let his mind race during and after the bear finished talking, looking up from the fire to those hazy eyes. They seemed like the eyes of a totally blind creature but something felt off about the shaman. As if those eyes weren’t the reason why he still looked around.

 

“Thank you for welcoming me into your home, elder. I enjoyed the feeling of this forest as I walked through but will admit that a much larger creature than the one who escorted me here startled me. May I ask your name?” Nyse asked. The lich’s hospitality and manners surprised the old bear as he expected the undead to be rude, self-absorbed, and an overall prideful ass. His unseeing eyes widened to also betray his surprise to Nyse and sat up slowly with a light grunt.

 

“By my ancestors! In all my years I have never heard of a polite lich! Forgive me, friend, all others I have met either think they are all superior for not needing air in their lungs or for fearing the last step of the grand cycle. I am Beir, leader of this tribe of fellow beast-kin. I am sure you do not need me to tell you that I am also the tribe’s shaman as well.” chuckled Beir, lightly stroking the fur that extended down his chin. It looked as if he was rubbing his chest but the ‘beard’ blended in with the rest of his fur it was hard to tell.

 

Nyse let a small smile form on his lips and nodded in response to the more relaxed shaman. He also knew of the arrogance and unbearable pride of other Liches, having known many personally and killed others who continued to boast until Nyse crushed both their bones and souls. He was the only lich, at least to his knowledge, that actually knew what the rest of the world looked like from outside their own ass.

 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Beir, but I will agree to what you’ve said. It really is tiring to find so many of my kind as arrogant as humans in positions of power. To be so self-absorbed and not be self aware of their own insignificance is a tragedy all its own.” Nyse said with a deep sigh, lightly touching his forehead before returning his gaze to the bear across the fire pit. Beir simply nodded in agreement before reaching around on the floor for a long pipe made from one of the large trees that populated the forest. He held it out to the necromancer who took it graciously, lighting the already prepared end in the fire before handing it back.

 

Beir took a slow, long drag from the pipe before letting it out in a large puff of smoke. For a being much older than an elderly human, Beir had quite the lung capacity. Said shaman passed the pipe back to Nyse who then took a longer drag of the herbs carefully picked and cleaned, holding in more before slowly exhaling his fill to fill the hut. The two took turns for hours before the elder finally started to cough, making both of them laugh as the peaceful smoking was interrupted by Beir’s aged lungs.

 

“I guess I win then?” Nyse joked as he took a final puff and set the pipe down next to the fire pit, feeling much more relaxed and maybe more than he thought. Nyse wondered what sort of herbs the shaman had picked, his mind wandering if they were recreational or for letting him see beyond sight. 

 

Beir didn’t answer for a couple of minutes as he caught his breath after his coughing fit, clearing his throat before taking another deep breath. “Yes yes, Necromancer, you win. But I’ll get you the next time you decide to wander through these woods. Pardon me I never got your name! Please forgive my rudeness I get so caught up in my old age.” said the blind spirit seer who was waved off by Nyse as he didn’t mind. 

“It’s alright, Beir, do not beat yourself up too much. I am named Nyse. I am an Elder Lich and just want to search for knowledge.” Nyse said making a gesture with his hand, a symbol of his name written in an old rune that glowed dark green before fading away. He was sure the elder saw it as his magic touched both the living and ethereal. The elder’s reaction answered Nyse’s curiosity.

 

Beir sat up a bit more after seeing Nyse made the symbol that even the elder bear had never seen. He eye’d it before it faded away, rubbing his eyes with a visible look of confusion before he shook his head and returned his gaze to the lich. Beir stayed silent as he was trying to process that, unsure of how a lich could touch into the realm of spirits like that while also touching the physical world. Most liches used advanced necromancy, death magic, the freezing cold, or even life draining spells. He had never known of something like this from someone of Nyse’s kin...it puzzled him deeply but he would think on it later while conversing with the ancestors.

 

“I take it that the reason you have entered the eternal forest is because you seek something within it, yes?” Beir asked, studying the necromancer carefully but only saw surface level items like his own items and charms held under the large dark cloak and various items he carried. Nothing else could be found but he guessed that Nyse either masked himself or he was beyond the sight of an old shaman. 

 

Nyse nodded in response and shifted his weight a little, his eyes never leaving the elder’s. 

“I have an item in my possession that finds the closest forbidden lore no matter how small. It could be a simple rune written in a prison cell from long ago, a soul bound suit of armour, or sometimes a full tome of necromantic lore. I’ve been lucky with recent finds too.” Nyse said. He then got to his feet and patted down the dirt from his cloak, being careful not to bump his head on anything hanging from the ceiling. 

 

The elder did the same and followed Nyse outside his hut and they were greeted with the rest of the tribe staring at the tall humanoid. They ranged from young to old, male and female, and of various animal types. Some looking more human than others but still beast-kin of the same tribe. The large bear that first met Nyse was standing in the back of the gathering of beast-kin but at the front were warriors holding axes and two handed weapons. Scars littered some of the warriors while others had leather padded shoulders or were bound in pieces of the thick trees fashioned as armor.

 

An ape walked forward wearing the strange bark armour, taking a glance at the necromancer before turning his focus to his elder. “There is something within the forest, elder. Grunk felt it as she walked. She says it feels...wrong. As if it does not belong in this world.” said the ape. The elder nodded and lightly tapped his staff into the ground three times to let the warriors get ready to defend the tribe.

 

Nyse would watch as the beast-kin quickly moved to arm themselves with weapons and protection from their own huts, covering themselves in black warpaint or white if their fur would be black already. The young ones were ushered into the elder’s hut for protection as it had seals and wards placed around it for extra defense. He turned his head to look down at the elder and wondered what could have been within those trees. A rival tribe? Treants? Or something that had followed him?

 

“This ‘Grunk’, the ape talked about. Who is she, Beir?” Nyse asked the old bear. 

 

“A very large beast-kin. She roams the forest around the tribe as our first line of defense. She has a deep connection to the forest around her, feeling what roams between its trees or tunnels in the rich earth. You might have felt her walk by.” chuckled the elder. He slowly walked to the edges of the tribe from where Nyse and the large bear entered, drawing a little symbol into the ground that was a ward for protection. It looked like a leaf with lines radiating from it. The beast-kin standing at the edge of the tribe gripped their weapons tight, sniffing heavily and twitched their ears trying to strain for any signs of what would be coming their way.

 

The elder lich didn’t like the feeling of waiting for something in the dark of those tightly packed trees as he was usually the one who traveled within the shadows. He was in unfamiliar territory and wouldn’t have time to leave for safety, thinking that whatever was coming for the tribe might also have surrounded it. So he waited with the beast-kin. Their thunderous beating hearts deafening until there was a stillness in the air. A calm before the storm. Then the silence was shattered with the sounds of cannon fire but what hit the ground weren't canon balls. They were cursed orbs that burned with unholy flames!

 

The beast-kin had scattered but before they could group together again they were rushed from the trees by hordes of undead! Skeletons clad in steel charged with various weapons and were met with the opposing beast-kin, clashing before the symbol the elder drew in the ground. Nyse was surprised at the sight of skeletons but more that they were human, wondering how far they must have been marched out and by whom. But he would have that question answered quickly when a lone skeleton strode from the treeline atop an undead horse. The skeleton riding the rotten horse was bigger than those mindlessly charging into the wall of savage meat and fury, wearing much more detailed armour with a cape that flowed behind him. A sword by his side and head covered in an open faced hemet that let its burning blue eyes be seen by all who dare look upon them. 

 

The elder looked up at Nyse and tugged at his cloak, “Who is that, Nyse? Do you know them?” he asked in hopes of getting an answer. He didn’t think the necromancer had anything to do with the attack but with some name he might be able to figure out a way of defense. 

 

“I unfortunately do, Beir. That thing on the dead horse is Hoggarth. One of the Bone Barons of the Skeleton King.” Nyse said but didn’t look at the frightened old bear as he and the Baron were staring at one another from across the field. 

 

The Baron gripped the reins tighter of his rotted horse when he spotted the fabled rogue Elder Lich. His bones surging with energy at the thought of presenting Nyse’s head to his king, sure that he would be elevated to Wight status. The Baron shifted his weight, the chainmail under his plate armour shifting as he got a better look at the one who stared him down. 

 

“I come in the name of the Skeleton King! He shall have these lands and lumber for his conquest against the living and will use your corpses as soldiers in his eternal armies! Struggle but all will fall by the blade of Baron Hoggarth! As for the Elder Lich, I will have your head on a platter for my king. Prepare, necromancer, for the horsemen commeth!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout outs to Sticky, Aly, and Cayla for reading over and continuing to support this. They're really amazing people and give me confidence in my work ^3^


	5. Blood and Bone

Hoggarth’s gaze never left Nyse’s as the battle raged on, the two locked in an undead stare down. Hoggarth waved his hand to his second in command next to him and the lackey aimed his sword at the beast-kin, sending another wave of skeleton soldiers to the battle line. The sound of clanking metal and bones clattering mixed with the clash of blades and roars of rage and death coming from the beast-kin. Nyse moved his hands from his cloak and rolled his neck as his hands started to glow a bright, sickly green. The colour changed from dark to bright in a constant flux of necromantic magic.

 

The Bone Baron lightly tapped the hilt of his sheathed sword at the sight of Nyse having magic at the ready and took a quick look over the battlefield, surveying how much carnage was happening. The beast-kin were formidable and kept up their defense strong, being hurt and wounded but not losing any. Bones and metal were tossed into the air and all around as the ape from before, the large bear that lead Nyse into the tribe, a few tigers, and elephants didn’t let up or give an inch. Their wounds were slowly healed by the magic of the elder and other shamans behind the line drawn before the battle, each constantly using the energy of the forest to fuel their healing. 

 

Hoggarth sensed the life giving magic and grinded his teeth as he despised life and any magic that extended it. He finally tore his gaze from the necromancer and gave the order to finally use his skeletal archers, giving the hand signal to darken the sky. Arrows were quickly knocked and loosed not at the frontline warriors, but instead at the healers behind! They would have landed and killed many including the elder had it not been for the quick magic of Nyse, burning the arrows mid-air. Nyse quickly casted a spell to make the ground beneath the archers erupt in a column of green fire, scattering them across the woods and singed a few trees in the process.

 

Beir saw the archers gone but also the damage to the trees and decided to harp Nyse about it later if he and his kin lived through the attack. The old shaman poured the majority of his focus towards the front line of the largest and strongest beast-kin, their roars of rage and pain louder than the clang of metal and breaking bones. The fighting grew harder and continued on longer due to the stubborn resilience of the largest beast-kin. The elder knew that his young apprentices would not last long with their constant healing, some already began to show signs of fatigue and loss of focus. 

 

Nyse saw the look of worry on Beir’s face and looked around the battle as he wondered why there hasn’t been any more burning iron balls raining down on them. He knew that skeletons weren’t completely useless but must have guessed that the spectral fire on them might be the reason why it took so long. Nyse cast a quick spell to send his sight far above the woods, sweeping his gaze across the dark tree tops until he found the catapults set up in the distance. He confirmed his suspicions as to why the flaming balls of iron were taking so long when he saw the little skeleton mages chanting by the loaded catapults. He kept the siege weapons in his sights and waved his hand to cause more necromantic fire to erupt from the ground under them. 

 

With his siege engines gone Hoggarth’s anger grew, his blue eyes burning brighter . He knew that the necromancer would be trouble but never thought he would be that much of an issue. The Bone Baron motioned for the bulk of his forces to move up to the still defending beast-kin, having noticed that they were slowly faltering. He planned on using the sheer numbers of skeletons under his command to swarm the weakening beast-kin, feeling the life in each of them getting weaker as their shamans collapsed.

 

The skeletons charged against the beast-kin, their cries of pain silenced one after another as the wave of bone soldiers started to overwhelm them. The undead horde having their fervor increased as Hoggarth wove his own spells to enhance his soldiers, laughing loudly as the large warriors fell. Hoggarth himself even began to ride forward towards the battle with his sword drawn, the long blade forged in the Soul Forges which was able to cut through the thickest of metals and pierce the toughest hides. He began to ride forth and cut down the advancing beast-kin that broke the line in a feral frenzy, cutting each of the tigers and apes clean in half with his cursed blade.

 

The other beast-kin that stayed on the line were pushed back more and more until they eventually turned tail and ran behind the small symbol that Beir drew in the ground before the battle begun. The skeletal soldiers were right on the retreating beast-kins heels but as they reached the symbol, the unholy warriors suddenly collapsed! Bones being flung forward as all the unlife from them seemed to leave, letting each skeleton that crossed the line fall over in a heap of bones and armour. The other skeletons stopped on Hoggarth’s command as he saw what happened to his troops, slowly riding along the outside of the invisible barrier that sapped the energy of the undead that crossed it.

 

“Beir, what sort of forest magic is this?” Nyse asked the tired shaman. He saw that the old bear was among the few that still stood despite their constant use of magic. Even with them drawing on the forest’s magic and having aid from the spirits that lived within the trees, they could not strain as much any longer. 

 

Beir nodded and waved off the Necromancer as he slowly stood straighter. His breathing was laboured and it took a few breaths before he responded to Nyse. 

 

“I..I am alright, friend. Just not as… oh spirits… not as young as I used to be. It seems we might be on the back paw though. Have...pardon me..; have you any manner of spells that might help us?” Beir asked as he looked up at the elder lich, still catching his breath. He took a bottle out from under his robes that was filled with a glowing green liquid and took a swig. It seemed foul as his reaction wasn’t pleasant. He then gave the potion to the other healers who reluctantly drank before returning the empty glass to the elder. 

 

Nyse thought over the elder’s request and sighed when he finished the thought. He reached into his own black robes and dug around in his bag to retrieve an odd trinket: a pitch black orb that fit perfectly in his hand. He shook his head and dug around in his bag for another item that he pulled out quickly. This new item was what looked like a monocle. Nyse held it up to his eye and cleaned it off before giving it to Beir. The elder bear looked at it and was visibly confused as he wasn’t sure what to do with it. He sniffed at it and tried tapping the glass but was stopped by Nyse so the curious beast-kin wouldn’t damage it. 

 

“That, my curious old bear, is a Seeing Glass. It is self explanatory but this is Arakael’s Seeing Glass. It reveals hidden objects, illusions, those not of this world, and other magical properties that the wearer wishes to see. So now, you can see what you’re fighting and how to combat it,” Nyse said to Beir who was setting the monocle on his nose against his right eye, blinking a few times before he took a look at Nyse and recoiled.

 

“B-by the ancestors! Y-y-you-” was all Beir managed to say before Nyse hushed him with a finger to his lips, rolling his eyes in annoyance. 

 

“Yes, yes, I know what you are seeing but do keep quiet please. Focus on keeping your tribe alive and I’ll get going after so they do not come after you again,” Nyse quickly said to interrupt the frightened shaman.

 

He slowly moved his finger back once he was sure the old bear would keep quiet about what he saw and turned to face the undead horde at the edge of the tribe. He rolled his shoulders and took a deep breath, exhaling slowly and as he did so the air would chill around him. The breath of the beast-kin were visible as the air was chilled and dropped more with every slow breath the necromancer let out. The beast-kin quickly started fires for those who didn’t have thick coats and put on actual coats and cloaks to try and keep warm.

 

Hoggarth stared at the elder lich as the area around them slowly froze. Ice began to form on the skeletons and locked their bones in place to render them useless. The Bone Baron was soon the only undead attacker to be able to move freely as his soldiers were frozen. Nyse stopped his slow exhaules when he saw that the Bone Baron was the only one who still moved and grinned at the sight of the Horseman’s grinding teeth. The necromancer began to walk forward towards the barrier and started up at Hoggarth and was met with glowing eyes filled with rage.

 

“You think this will stop me, Necromancer? Your little spell is a feeble attempt to delay the inevitable that is your death! I do not need these lowly undead to defeat you or these filthy beasts that you hide behind. So prepare, Nyse the Necromancer, I will walk through this pathetic barrier and take your head!” said Hoggarth to break the cold silence. He hopped off his rotted horse and gripped his sword tighter. 

 

The Horseman took a minute before he reached a hand towards the barrier and slowly pushed through. He chuckled deeply at the frightened look on Beir’s face as his strongest protection spell was shrugged off so easily. Hoggarth kept his gaze on Nyse as the two paced around in a wide circle as the beast-kin watching in cold fear. The skeletal lord stopped and raised his sword, the metal now being charged with more spectral energy that the Baron had kept in reserve.

 

Nyse only had his magic and his staff to defend himself against the large sword his opponent wielded and wondered the strength of it against his staff. He readied himself and waited before Hoggarth suddenly dashed forward and took a wide swipe at him. Nyse reacted faster than the Baron thought and stepped back only to quickly close the gap, taking a smack at the skeletal lord’s side. Hoggarth couldn’t react in time to dodge or block with his sword and hardened his bones for the blow but was surprised by the amount of strength the necromancer had. He was thrown across the dirt a few feet after the blow connected and groaned when he slowly got back up.

 

He held his side for a moment but looked down in surprise by the deep dent that Nyse had made. He shook his head and grunted before he inched carefully towards the necromancer. Hoggarth had to exercise more caution than he thought as he severely underestimated the elder lich’s strength, having thought he was just a weak mage. Hoggarth readied himself again in a more defensive stand and made sure to be more cautious when he approached Nyse again. He had let his arrogance get the best of him and he wouldn’t let it happen again unless he wanted to punished by his king, something he shuddered at the thought of.

 

The air was still as the two undead got closer and closer, only being a couple of feet apart from one another. They didn’t move as if they tried to taunt the other into striking first, the beast-kin that watched from their homes watched and held their breath until Nyse suddenly moved forward to jab the butt of his staff at the Baron. Hoggarth was prepared this time and blocked the powerful staff with the flat side of his large blade and quickly turned it around by spinning on his heel. His sword cut through the air with a powerful arc but Nyse dodged with a quick duck and roll to Hoggarth’s right side. Nyse took advantage of the Skeletal Lord’s wide swing with another quick but hard strike to his dented armour. 

 

The enchanted and curse-strengthened armour cracked loudly and Nyse’s opponent’s ribs also made a sickening snap, making the Hardened warrior cry out in pain. Nyse didn’t let up and pressed the attack with a spin to the other side and smacked against the injured Baron, hitting much harder and cracked and broke his ribs. More cries of pain pierced the woods and made the beast-kin wince as they all watched the fight slowly come to an end. Nyse stared down at the unholy warrior with eyes as cold as the void and even made the hardened Baron shudder as he held his broken ribs. Nyse’s staff charged with a pure black energy as he intended to end it here and now but stayed silent.

 

The spell was ready and the bell would soon toll for Hoggarth. Nyse casted the spell but before it made contact to obliterate the would be attacker, Hoggarth quickly grabbed an oddly shaped skull necklace and crushed it to suddenly disappear in a thick puff of smoke. The spell connected with the ground and left a massive smoking hole, leaving the deathly silent beast-kin stunned at his magical might. 

 

The necromancer clicked his tongue before the smoke cleared, annoyed that he didn’t get to finish what he started. He wiped his cloak off and looked around before he walked over to Beir who still had the monocle on. 

 

“He slipped through my grasp. Apologies, friend, but he had a safety net on a necklace that was tucked into his armour. However, I do not think he or others like him will be bothering you or this forest.” Nyse said to the elder shaman and sighed as he wasted time and mana only to be cheated with a cheap teleport trick. 

 

It took Beir a couple minutes to respond as he tried to process what he looked at. To the naked eye, Nyse looked like a tall human but was actually an elder lich but wasn’t all bone. To Beir, with the aid of the magical item Nyse gave him, the undead mage looked like he normally did but with a dark aura surrounding him. Sickly greens, deep blues, shifting shades of black were like a vortex until they slowly faded away to have a more light grey around him. Beir was still stunned from his undead friend’s display of such power.

 

“N-no it is...it is quite alright, my friend, I...have not seen such magic before. What chills me most is I fear you were not using your full power. But I must thank you greatly for your help with this. We will never forget what you have done for us.” Beir said, beyond grateful for Nyse’s help and was sure he and his tribe wouldn’t have survived if he didn’t arrive. 

 

Nyse smiled a little and waved his hand to get Beir to stop. He was flattered but wanted to stay humble, having decided to let the old bear continue a little longer. Beir removed the monocle and held it in his paw lightly, his glossy eyes still seeing Nyse’s aura but not as detailed with the magical item. He felt around with his staff for a rock to sit on and groaned as he did, his age getting the better of him but he would be fine in a couple hours. The battle was long and the sun had started to set, the sky darkened as the moon now held dominion. 

 

“Friend Necromancer, I thank you greatly for aid in our defense. I am sure you have given that Skeletal Lord more of a reason to kill you so if you must leave then please do so quickly. There is a path behind my home we have made to exit the woods if we ever needed to. We will bury our dead, tend to the wounded, and ask another tribe for shelter.” Beir said to Nyse, his eyes glued to the night sky as if he could see the dancing spirits of the few slain under his care. 

 

Nyse knew that even if only one beast-kin died, Beir would still feel the guilt of five. He cleared his throat and patted the elder shaman on his shoulder. He turned to look around at the beast-kin who now left their homes to see their tribe. Some of the crude homes had been crushed or smashed by the iron balls from before. Young ones and their caretakers now lay lifeless from the damned artillery. The lich decided to stay and watch the burials and rites given to them as each spirit left their bodies and wandered into the trees. 

 

Nyse tried to distance himself from living beings the best he could but on occasion he would let himself interact with them. Some of those memories were full of happiness, joy, and brought warmth to his cold unbeating heart. Others, much like what had recently happened, brought an unfamiliar pain to him. The memories of when he was alive or freshly revived as an elder lich trying to make friends who would ultimately die around him or in his arms. He learned over the years to harden himself but he guessed he wasn’t as head as he hoped. 

 

“I am going to head out, Beir. I wish you luck with the rest of your life and your successor. Maybe one day I’ll come back and find your spirit by one of the trees. If I do I..would like to sit and talk.” Nyse said with a little smile. Beir returned it with his own and nodded to the tall undead. Beir bowed his head slightly before Nyse turned to head off down the back trail behind the shaman’s hut, fading into the dark of night. That would be the last time Nyse ever saw Beir alive.

 

-x-

 

The necropolis was more lively than usual and the battle between Hoggarth and Nyse was fuel for that fire. Cultists clad in dark robes shuffled quickly against the stone floor of the undead city, hushed whispers and hurried prayers buzzed as information was spread like wildfire. Those higher up the frozen chain of command were processing all the new information that was gathered by their uncountable sources from secret cultists within the Holy Empire or those tucked away outside the Holy Empire’s borders. Even the Cult leaders were having a hard time with trying to sort out all the information and had to turn to the Elder Liches for help as their intellect was scores more than a simple lower lich. 

 

The Elder Council spent days sorting out the stream of info from the validity of their Crows to the rumors among the grape vine of their damned servants, collecting and thinking heavily on what these recent events could spell for their own hidden plans. After a week, High Elder Lictus held a meeting for the council by stepping in the middle of their cursed thrones. He let his gaze sweep across every member before finally speaking.

 

“I know that this recent news is very...troubling to our plans. The Elder Lich known as Nyse has already been a thorn in our sides but with him engaging with one of the Skeleton King’s Bone Barons increases the level of danger he brings forth. Not only to even us Elder Liches but to our plans overall. He seeks the Arch Lich’s personal tome and we haven’t a clue as to why. He could know of our plans, or wants to rule where Hudsen Licter left off, or just let the world burn and turn into a ball of rotten flesh! It pains me to say that...Dark Magus Terillian was correct in his earlier attempts to try and eliminate him as soon as we can so our plans stay uninterrupted.” High Elder Lictus said, the last part of admitting that his least liked Lich was right sickened him as much as those dreaded Arch Angels. 

 

Terillian let a sly smirk grow across what was left of the flesh on his face at hearing the High Elder admit he was wrong. He knew it was trivial but it was such a sweet little drop of honey and he would savor it until the moment it was gone. He stood from his throne and held up his hand to silence the slight chatter amongst the liches.

 

“Thank you, High Elder Lictus, for having the humility to admit you were wrong in this sense. I can not blame you for not agreeing at first but I like to think more...long term” he said, the last part of his sentence coming out smug as he looks down at Lictus at the center of the chamber. 

 

“If it will please the Council I will personally take up the task of eliminating or assimilating the lone lich. However, the crows have yet to find his phylactery so fully destroying him will have to wait. We have the chains and spells to bind him until we can or to force him to join us. In time he might come around to seeing the errors of his ways much like our High Elder recently has~” Terillian says and sat back down, satisfied at the jabs he took and still had a smirk on his face.

 

Lictus rolled his eyes when Terillian finished and returned to addressing the Council, 

“Our efforts in converting the Holy Empire has increased more with the towns and villages closest to the borders. Few have been harder than others, as per the reports, but have gone unnoticed. Our grip slowly tightens and soon we will spread our shadows deeper over those arrogant fools. Lastly, Dark Magus Terillian will be choosing who will aid him on dealing with Nyse.” Lictus said and ended the meeting, being the first to leave as his restraint was wearing thin on being near Terillian. He would keep his composure until he entered his private chambers, the sound silent on the outside but inside he was ranting and raving and making a mess of his room. 

 

Terillian would decide not to show any more pleasure in his little victory and quickly gathered the liches he required for his task. He took Dark Magus Jor, Shadow Seers Jor and Zyph, and Necrophytes Endilon, Hora, and Khaglar. They were hand picked almost instantly as he had set up his team before High Elder Lictus agreed. Weeks in advance even! They were more loyal to Terillian than the Lictus and that was one of many well guarded secrets as they knew the price of betrayal within the Council. 

 

The Dark Magus lead his group to his own chambers and set up the plans to catch up and capture Nyse. They were all very strong and skilled in magic as well as combating their own kind, having scrolls, items, trinkets, and hand crafted spells that the Holy Empire would kill to get their hands on. They knew where he currently was but not the location as the forest made it difficult to track him. So they guessed in the area for where there might be magical items that belonged to his area of magic. 

 

They readied crows to spread out to comb the forest and multiple directions they were fairly confident in to where their prey could have gone, now only having to wait for the results before they would personally apprehend the lone lich themselves. Terillian’s group quickly returned to their duties to avoid suspicion from others of their kind, knowing their mission from their High Elder but also their true leader. 

 

Terillian sat at his desk pouring over information about Nyse and what he has plundered from graves, tombs, crypts, mausoleums, and other hidden and decrepit places. Various tomes and scrolls have been taken and added to his grimoire and the more Terillian read the more dangerous Nyse would become in his mind. The task grew more and more daunting with each page the Dark Magus turned as Nyse has been seen taking over entire towns, defeating whole squads of paladins without casting a single spell, and his most recent task was defeating a Bone Baron in single combat. Terillian would have to revise his plans heavily as he thought that Nyse would have his own spells to use against the undead as much as he would against he living 

 

Many hours have passed within Terillian’s chambers as he was thinking and scrapping plan after plan. The floor was littered with crumpled papers and a few bottles that were tossed or shattered in little fits of rage over his inability to form a perfect plan that didn’t result in the loss of either half or all of his team. He was becoming a recluse in his corner of the Necropolis as those hours would slowly turn into days until he finally formulated a plan that would work in his favor. Every variable that he thought of and the possibility of more arcane lore on top of the extra possibility of the Necromancer having a party moving with him. He would succeed and would kill the lich if it came down to it. 

 

“Nyse. I will burn your name into my brain and burn the look on your face at your defeat right after. I will have your allegiance or your head on a spike and hang it over my throne when i become High Elder!” Terillian said loudly as he looks down at the notes and overall plan he poured weeks worth of work into despite only having worked days. The mind of a lich with true driven purpose was much better than any man or archmage, earning them more mental capacity and that increased the older they got. Nyse would have yet another target on his back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am extremely sorry for taking more than half a year to post another chapter. It's been uh. It's been a year and that's all i'll say on it, y'know? I do want to continue this story and will do my darndest damndest bestest to get out more chapters at a reasonable time. I hope you enjoyed this chapter and another sorry if it isn't as good as others. This one was sitting in my drafts for a while and but I knew it was done and edited to the best of my abilities as well as a few friends. 
> 
> thank you to those discord people from better times and my best friend.

**Author's Note:**

> I want to give big thanks for the boost in confidence from my bestie, Kay and Sam, and Dead Inside. They all read and offered great help in editing and helping with me not be as scared to share my work uwu.


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